Ancestors
by Arnel 63
Summary: In January of 1998, Harry goes back in time ninety-seven years to learn about his ancestors.
1. Chapter 1: Discovery

Ancestors by Arnel 

**Chapter 1: Discovery**

**Author's Notes:** I hope you enjoy this little glimpse into Harry's past. I chose this subject because I think knowing where you come from gives you a sense of belonging. I look forward to reading your comments.

**Friday, 2 January 1998, Peebles, Scotland**

Harry glanced across the library table at a well-disguised Hermione as he felt the table shake yet again. She shivered for the third time in as many minutes and pulled on her coat, her short grey hair curling over the collar. He understood how she felt; chilled to the bone and unable to feel warm, even though the room was fairly cosy. They had decided to risk coming into the village because Hermione was running out of ideas for out-of-the-way places to set up the tent.

"I think I've found a place we can stay for a while without being detected," Hermione whispered.

Harry quirked a bushy grey eyebrow at his friend. "Where?" he asked, suddenly interested.

Hermione shoved the atlas she had been looking at across the table and pointed to a small dot on the map of Scotland. "We're here in Peebles," she said, then traced her finger northeast to a region marked Leithenwater Forest. "I think we can successfully camp there for a few days and then move northeast to the Moorfoot Hills for another week," she added as her finger found the hilly region.

Harry studied the map for a few moments and then grinned at Hermione. "I'm game if you are," he said.

She nodded and left the table with the atlas to make a copy of the page on the library's copy machine. When she came back, she was holding another book and looking rather excited. "Harry, you need to see this. The book was open on the floor near the copy machine. Someone must have dropped it. I would have just closed it and re-shelved it, but when I looked to see if any of the pages were bent, I saw this," she whispered, pointing to the name Potter at the bottom of one of the pages. "I think we need to change our plans."

Harry took the book she held open and began to read. His eyes widened. "Does this mean what I think it does?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied, sitting next to him so they could whisper without bothering anyone. "You're listed as the owner of this farm!"

"How can that be? I'm only seventeen and Muggles reach majority at eighteen. Have the publishers of this book made a mistake?" Harry asked.

Hermione checked the copyright date at the front of the annual. "No, it hasn't. It was published in October."

Harry nodded and began reading again. "It says here the farm has been owned by absentee land owners for over seventy-five years," Harry murmured as his eyes danced over the entry. "It was purchased in 1865 and occupied into the 1920s by Herry and Amelia Potter. Cameron and Iona Potter owned the farm from 1926 to 1977, followed by James Potter from 1977 to 1981 and now me. But why would my family own a Muggle farm?"

"Maybe someone in your family, this Herry Potter, was a Squib who needed an occupation," Hermione offered. "It makes sense to me. What about you?"

Shrugging, he said, "Your guess is as good as mine." Then, he asked curiously, "Where is it?"

Peering at the miniscule type, Hermione studied the entry and then the portion of the map she'd copied that showed the land around the village of Peebles. "I think it's somewhere… here…" she said, pointing.

As she spoke, a voice called from the front of the library, "It is now a quarter to six. The library will be closing in fifteen minutes. If you have books to check out, please come to the front desk now."

Harry shivered and looked at Hermione and then out the window at the steadily falling rain. "You mentioned changing our plans," he said. "Even if we can't get into the house, I'd like to pitch the tent in the farmyard instead of going to the forest first. Is that what you meant?"

She smiled, nodding. "I'll make a copy of this page and then put the book back. We can leave with the other patrons when I'm done."

"Do we need to stop at a green grocer's?" Harry asked, reaching into his coat pocket for his Invisibility Cloak.

"Yes. I'd like to get some leeks and a potato or two for soup," she said. "If I make enough, it'll last for several days. The vegetables are cheaper than spaghetti."

"All right. I think I saw a grocer's across from one of the inns when we first arrived," Harry said. He stood and shoved his chair under the table, then turned to follow Hermione. Minutes later, the two exited the library under the Cloak with several other patrons.

Hermione spent less than five minutes in the grocer's, coming out to where Harry was hidden in an alley with two large bags. "This should last us several days," she said, cramming her purchase into her beaded bag. "You ready?"

Harry opened the Cloak and she slipped under it. On her count, they Disapparated, reappearing in a rainy and windswept farmyard located in a small valley surrounded on all four sides by rolling hills. Harry pulled off the Cloak and the two stood gazing in wonder at the scene before them.

The farmhouse was a small, two-storey affair built of brick with a clay tile roof the same colour as the brick. Having expected a detached barn, Harry was surprised to discover that the barn was actually an extension of the house. Beyond the farmyard, the land rose abruptly. The hills were towered over them blackly and the only road was a dirt track that led out of the farmyard and down the little valley where it disappeared between the hills.

"It's beautiful here," Hermione breathed, taking in the wild hilliness of the landscape. "I can see why your ancestors chose to farm here, Harry."

"I wonder what kind of farming they did," he said absently, still gazing at the house. "I don't see how they could raise crops on these hills."

"This region is known for its sheep, cattle and goat farms," Hermione said. She turned in a slow circle, then pointed through the storm towards one of the hills. "I can just make out a fence line and there's a big building at the top of that hill."

Harry turned his attention to the house. "I want to see if we can get in. I'm getting soaked and I don't relish pitching the tent in this mud."

He strode over to the front door of the house and cast a few detection spells. There appeared to be no magical deterrents cast upon the structure, so he tapped the doorknob with his wand and smiled when the lock clicked. "It's open, Hermione. Let's see what's inside."

Unlike Grimmauld Place, the Potter farmhouse had a warm, inviting look to it. Although the interior was just as cold as the exterior, just the fact that the sitting room was filled with furniture covered in dust cloths made it seem a bit warmer. Harry lifted the corner of a sheet covering a settee and discovered it was still in good condition. Dropping the sheet, he began examining the other pieces of furniture, which seemed to have been purchased sometime after the turn of the last century.

By now, Hermione had wandered into the kitchen and as he ran a finger over the titles of the books occupying the built-in bookshelves that occupied one wall, he now heard her exclaim, "Mrs Weasley would love this kitchen!" He hastened to see what she was so excited about.

It was as if he'd stepped into The Burrow's kitchen without thinking. The large, rustic room oozed the warmth of many meals lovingly prepared, of long winter nights spent sitting at the hearth reminiscing and telling family stories. Even the old, dusty teapot sitting in the middle of the long worktable exuded the same closeness Harry felt every time he walked into Mrs Weasley's kitchen. If he had to put a name on what he was feeling, he'd call it _family_.

Suddenly overcome with emotion, Harry looked over at Hermione and said tightly, "I'm going upstairs."

She nodded, sensing his mood, and let him go. What he found was three sparsely furnished bedrooms and an airing cupboard that had been turned into a tiny bathroom. Curious, he turned on the sink faucet. Nothing happened. Then, with a monumental banging of the old pipes, a stream of very rusty water suddenly gushed out of the tap, drenching the front of Harry's coat. He quickly shut off the tap and scoured his coat before drying it. Even so, a faint rusty stain was left on his stomach.

"Harry, are you all right?" Hermione called from below.

"Yeah, yeah, I did something stupid," he assured her. "I'm coming down. There's nothing remarkable about the rooms up here except three _real_ beds." He descended the stairs to find her waiting for him. "What would you say to sleeping upstairs instead of in the tent?"

"That sounds heavenly," she sighed, peering closer at his coat. "What did you do?"

Pointing to the stain, he said sheepishly, "My cleaning charms aren't as good as yours. Would you fix me?"

Laughing, Hermione obliged and then suggested they go out to the barn. The long room was subdivided by rows of stalls and smelled of mouldy hay and dust. Despite the cold, wet weather, Harry wanted to throw open a door and let in the fresh air as the sentimental feeling swept over him again. Hermione came up to him and stood close to him. Her support helped organize his thoughts.

"It's all right to be sentimental," she said. "If you truly own this farm, then you have every right to know about the people who lived here, even if the last time it was occupied was in the distant past. Maybe, if we look hard enough, we'll find something useful."

Brightening at her suggestion, Harry asked, "Should I see about starting a fire?"

Hermione smiled up at him. "That sounds like a great idea, Harry."

An hour later, free from their disguises and sated from a meal of potato and leek soup, tea and a loaf of crusty bread, Harry wandered back into the sitting room, carrying an old oil lamp he'd found in the kitchen. The magical fire he'd managed to build in the kitchen fireplace had warmed the air in this room as well and he was eager to continue his inspection of the house. He had no idea what he was looking for, but the urge to poke his nose into every cupboard and bookcase was too strong not to heed it.

He started with the bookcase, standing on a small foot stool to see the titles of the books on the top shelf. There was an ancient atlas and several books of poetry, and what looked like a collection of children's school books. The next shelf down held several ancient ledgers, the oldest dated 1854. The last ledger on the shelf bore the year 1926. Harry pulled this one down and opened it to a random page. Someone had made careful entries in spidery writing, noting purchases and expenditures, income and other important information pertaining to the running of a sheep farm. As much as the ledger interested him, Harry put it back and continued his perusal of the bookcase.

The next shelf, the one at eye level, contained almanacs, several leather-bound books entitled _The Farmer's Journal_, a few farming magazines, six sheep husbandry references and two books of Shakespeare plays. Thinking the books of plays belonged on the top shelf, Harry pulled one out and nearly dropped it because the two books were stuck together. Also, instead of the heavy tome he was expecting, the book was exceptionally light for its size. Curious, he opened it only to discover that the pages had been glued together and the middle hollowed out to form a sort of box. Harry gasped at what lay inside nestled snuggly in some old cotton wool: an ancient Time-Turner. With a shaking hand, he pulled the Time-Turner from its resting place and held it up to the light to examine it closer.

The Time-Turner was much different from the one Hermione had used back in third year. That one had been a simple silver hourglass. This one was larger and was made of gold. It was much more detailed, too, with a dial on each end and two protective rings that made it look like a tiny Muggle gyroscope. Harry watched it swing back and forth in front of his face and an idea began forming in his head.

_It just might work,_ he thought as he gently returned the instrument to its resting place. _All I have to do now is figure out how this particular Time-Turner works_.

Harry closed the book and slid it back into its space. For now, he decided, he would keep his discovery to himself. He knew Hermione would object to his messing with it, especially since it had been concealed in a Muggle farm. The lack of protective spells told Harry that the person who concealed the Time-Turner in the book had been confident enough to believe that his or her hiding place would not seem out of place. Either that, or the person was incredibly naïve as to the value of the instrument.

With a sigh, Harry returned to the kitchen and a quiet night in Hermione's company.


	2. Chapter 2: Plans

**Chapter 2: Plans**

**Author's Notes:** Harry's plans start coming together in this chapter. It's a bit short, but maps out what he hopes to accomplish with the Time-Turner. I hope you enjoy it enough to share your thoughts with me.

**Saturday, 3 January 1998, Moorfoot Hills**

Unable to sleep, mostly because in the brick house he couldn't hear the reassuring sound of Hermione breathing, Harry reluctantly slipped out of bed and hastily threw a jumper over his pyjamas while shoving his feet into a pair of slippers. The first floor was cold since he and Hermione had decided only to heat the two downstairs rooms and what little heat there was quickly dissipated the farther from the kitchen one went.

Downstairs, Harry searched the kitchen for a mug, then found Hermione's tin of tea, intending to take the drink into the sitting room to sip while reading one of the old books. He filled the teapot twice, the first time to warm it properly and the second to make his tea. While the tea steeped, he found the poetry books and the book box containing the Time-Turner, then briefly returned to the kitchen to fill his cup.

The poetry book turned out to be a book of sonnets and while Harry struggled at first with the arcane language, he was soon looking for poems championing the beauty of the love of one's life and his thoughts wandered to those of the girl he had left behind in Ottery-St Catchpole. He wondered if she had left a gift for him under the family Christmas tree or if she sometimes lay awake thinking of him. Most likely, she hadn't and didn't for he had left her without saying good-bye last August. Finally, feeling more melancholy than uplifted, he shut the book and turned his attention to the Time-Turner.

As he had noted before, the little golden instrument was much more complex than the one Hermione had used in their third year. To begin with, the two outer rings were made of gold as were the end caps on the crystal hourglass. Inside the hourglass was a mysterious golden dust that swirled from one bulb of the hourglass to the other. Harry studied the Time-Turner closely and discovered that the counters on the outer rings could be set to a year as far back as 1750 and any of the twelve months of a year. He was careful not to turn the Time-Turner over, lest he activate it and be whisked back in time against his will, while examining the end caps of the hourglass itself. Not surprising, the top had the numbers one to thirty-one inscribed on the outer edge, a ring that moved clockwise, like a dial. The bottom was similar, having the numbers one to twenty-four inscribed on its outer edge and an inner dial inscribed with the numerals five to fifty-five, similar to the face of a clock. Harry surmised that if he twisted and marked the dials and rings just so, he could tell the Time-Turner to take him back to a quarter after three in the afternoon on fifteen May nineteen twenty-one. As soon as he came to this conclusion, he sat back and began to ponder the possibilities available to him.

His limited knowledge of time travel had come from what Hermione had told him on the night they'd rescued Sirius and Buckbeak back in third year. He knew unequivocally that he must not be seen by his own past self and that he must not try to change the past in case he affected the future. Therefore, if he went back in time far enough, he might not endanger himself or the present. _It might just work_, he thought until another thought crossed his mind. _But can I make it back to my own time? _

Now feeling somewhat excited, Harry searched the book box for an instruction sheet. When there was none, he sighed, wondering if he should risk an experimental backwards jump, just to discover how to set the Time-Turner correctly. If he tried going back twenty-four hours, he would learn whether or not the Time-Turner would take him to where he had really been a day ago or whether it would dump him right back in his chair so that he would have to hide for a day, waiting for himself and Hermione to show up after the Peebles library closed. He hoped he wouldn't end up back on the beach at Loch Ness where they had camped the night before: while the food supply had been abundant, the winds had battered the tent and worked its way through the seams in the canvass, causing him and Hermione to end up in Peebles. He didn't relish spending too much time out in the open near the lake.

Smiling wryly, Harry thought, _I'd best get some better clothes on just in case I need to walk around Muggle Scotland. _

Fifteen minutes later, Harry was back in his chair, dressed warmly and with the Time-Turner's chain slung around his neck. He quickly adjusted the counters on the month and year rings and then carefully chose the day and time, hoping that the instrument took intent into consideration as well when locating the traveller. One full rotation later, Harry found himself standing in the doorway to the farmhouse, the noontime winter light streaming in through the windows. Grinning and hoping that turning the Time-Turner forward one rotation would take him back to the next morning, Harry changed the date and time and turned the instrument. He re-entered the present just in time to see himself disappear. Satisfied, he cleaned up his tea things, put the Time-Turner and books back where he'd found them and went back to bed. He lay awake for a long time because had so many things to plan.

*****

"Get up, Harry, it's nearly noon!" Hermione's voice pierced through Harry's pleasant dream, jarring him awake.

As he put his feet on the cold wooden floor boards, he remarked, "That's the best I've slept in a while."

Hermione frowned. "I thought you prowling around in the middle of the night. How can you have slept well if you were up?"

"There's something to be said for a cup of tea and the chance to read some soppy sonnets to help me forget where I am and what I'm doing," he said, studiously avoiding his friend's penetrating gaze. "I can show you the book, if you like," he added.

"Then you didn't have a nightmare?" Hermione queried.

"Nope. Honestly, I couldn't sleep because I couldn't hear you breathing," Harry admitted, feeling his ears heat up. "It was too quiet in my room."

"Oh, Harry," she sighed, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. After I came back to bed, I slept better than I have the last few weeks."

Hermione only smiled and asked, "Want to help me with lunch? I went back to Peebles while you were sleeping and stocked up on staples: flour, eggs, bread, milk, that sort of thing. If we're careful with the chilling charms, and add a Refilling Charm or two, at least the liquids will stay plentiful for the next week."

"Sure, I'll help. And then, while we're eating, I'll show you that poetry book," Harry said.

Hermione mumbled something about liking the idea as she started down the stairs. Harry dressed quickly and followed her as soon as he could.

*****

"I'm going for a walk," Harry announced as they finished cleaning the dishes they'd used for their lunch. "Want to come with me? It's stopped raining and I'd like to have a look at the valley." He didn't add that he would be scouting for a good place to enter the past.

Hermione smiled. "That sounds like a lovely idea. I'll get my coat." She hurried off and was back in the kitchen before Harry was.

They first toured the farmyard, often comparing it to what they knew of The Burrow's recent history. Like The Burrow, there was a pigsty and the remains of a chicken coop. The barnyard itself was fenced in on three sides, the fourth being made up of the main wall of the barn. They found the remains of a vegetable garden in back of the house, along with a rusting plough, so they surmised that the family had kept at least one horse while someone lived here. Further from the house, the pastures seemed to be returning to their natural heather since there was no sign of sheep or goats anywhere on the surrounding hills. Eventually, Harry directed their steps down the dirt track and they meandered along until, nearly a mile from the house, the land opened up to reveal a vista of more gently rolling hills. Way off in the distance, they could see Peebles.

Harry sighed inwardly in frustration. The distance between the farm and the village certainly put the brakes on his plans to just show up with the lame excuse that he was just passing through. How was he supposed to introduce himself to his ancestors if he couldn't pass himself off as a tourist? There had to be another way…

"It's certainly isolated here," Hermione commented, voicing his tormented thoughts.

"I'm beginning to think this branch of my father's family liked being isolated," Harry observed while adjusting the locket chain under his shirt collar. The movement dislodged the fingers of doubt the Horcrux was worming into his thoughts. "If they were even semi-magical, meaning they could perform the simplest spells, having nosy neighbours might have been a problem."

"My parents had a few of those," she said, sounding a little nostalgic. "Before I went to Hogwarts, the neighbourhood mothers were constantly popping in for a cuppa and I always had to be careful not to become too irritated when they overstayed their welcome."

Harry looked at his friend. "Did anything specific happen when they did?"

Giggling, Hermione said, "Usually I 'wished away' the tea things or made light bulbs break spectacularly enough that the ladies left. Only once did I make someone's cup hover over their head, threatening to dump its contents, until they left."

"What had she done?" Harry asked.

"The usual," Hermione shrugged. "She had a daughter in my class who was obviously less studious but more popular than I and she really rubbed it in. I think I was more perturbed than hurt by what she said, but it still rankled. The next thing I knew, her teacup left its saucer and was banging the side of the lady's head."

"Sounds like something Dumbledore did to the Dursleys once," Harry said as they turned to go back to the farm. "Only it was glasses of mead that were annoying them."

"I would have liked to see that," Hermione said wistfully.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence and when they entered the house, Harry took down several of the old ledgers–marked 1900-1904–and one of _The Farmer's Journals_ while Hermione went to fetch her book from Dumbledore. They lit a magical fire in the fireplace since they had no wood other than the old wooden furniture and they certainly weren't going to start burning that, and then settled into a companionable silence.

Harry's mind whirled as he searched the ledger for patterns–expenditures and income–that would give him clues to the times his ancestors had made the trek to Peebles to either sell their fleece or pick up supplies. As he turned the pages, the pattern of life on the farm was revealed to him. In spring, a few weeks after lambing season, Herry and Amelia Potter bought supplies for planting the vegetable garden, fixing things around the farm and a few items such as bolts of cloth for the house and themselves, it appeared. They purchased the most food during the summer months with some of the money they gleaned from selling their fleece with the help of their two hired men. Harry found it a bit surprising to learn that instead of being the most plentiful time of the year, summer seemed to be the time when there was the least human food on the farm while the family waited for the garden to grow and animals like pigs to mature. In autumn, they stocked up on staples and canning supplies in preparation for winter. In winter, most of the family's money went to veterinarian bills to keep the sheep healthy, especially during lambing season. With these patterns in mind, Harry began planning his visit to the farm to get to know some of his family.


	3. Chapter 3: Experiment

**Chapter 3: Experiment**

**Author's Notes:** Harry's well on his way in this chapter. Whether he'll try to change the past is anyone's guess. Right now, he just wants to learn about his family. I hope you enjoy the chapter.

**2230 hours, 4 January 1998**

"Good night, Harry," Hermione called from her room.

"Good night, Hermione," Harry called back.

He extinguished his bedside candle and lay back on his pillow, listening to the howling wind as it splattered rain on the window of his room. He wasn't relishing the long walk down the track to the road in the storm, but since he would have his wand, he would be able to dry his clothes when he arrived in 1901. His plan called for him to arrive at the farm two weeks before shearing, in the middle of May, when the sheep were washed. The ledgers and journal had shown him the pattern of daily life on the farm; he knew he wouldn't be able to hire on as a sheep shearer–that was too specialized a job for staying only a day or three–although he supposed he could learn. However, there would most likely be other jobs he could do around the farm for his great-grandfather or maybe even in the kitchen with his great-grandmother.

As soon as he was certain Hermione was asleep, Harry slid out of bed and went into the bathroom where he parted his hair down the middle and combed it so that his fringe still covered his scar. He quickly transfigured an old sock into a cap and settled it on his head. Back in his bedroom, he transfigured his jean jacket into a woollen overcoat and cast Impervious Charms on all of the clothes he was wearing and his glasses. Then, after leaving a note for Hermione, he took the Time-Turner from its hiding place and spent a few minutes setting it. He did not turn it over. Instead, he slipped the chain around his neck, picked up a small canvass sack he'd found in the barn and stuffed with a fresh change of clothes and his toothbrush, and walked out into the storm.

When he was a sufficient distance from the house, Harry stepped to the side of the track, fished the Time-Turner from inside his jacket and turned it over only once. Immediately, he had the feeling of rushing backwards at a tremendous pace and when the feeling lessened and finally stopped, he found himself standing in nearly the same place early on a bright, sunny morning in the middle of May 1901. Harry had calculated that this would be sheep-washing day or very close to it, about ten days to two weeks before shearing. He hoped his great-grandfather needed someone to help him wash his sheep.

Slinging the canvass bag over his shoulder, he started up the track to the farm. He had gone about half the distance when a young man about his age hailed him from one of the pastures dotted with black-headed sheep.

Eagerly, Harry walked over to the fence. "I'm looking for Herry Potter," he told the man.

"And who might you be and why are you asking," the man asked.

"I'm Harry James and I'm looking for work. I was told Mr Potter might need an extra man," Harry told him.

"Mr Potter's in the sheep shed at the top of the hill. If he needs you, you'll be working with me today, herding the sheep. By the way, the name's Cameron," the man said extending his hand.

Harry just managed to keep his jaw from dropping open because he realized that the person he was talking to was his grandfather. He felt a grin split his face instead. "It's good to meet you, Cameron," he said.

*****  
Hermione yawned and stretched, savouring the quiet of the early morning. She wondered if Harry was up yet; if he wasn't, she'd throw on some clothes and go out to check her privacy enchantments. Otherwise, she'd stay in her pyjamas and dressing gown and have a cup of tea before dressing.

Harry's door was open when she walked out into the passage. Curious about his whereabouts, she padded down to the kitchen to see if he had made tea yet. The kitchen was dark and cold when she reached it, and upon lighting an oil lamp, she spied a piece of parchment sticking out of one of the books Harry had been reading last night and left on the table. Pocketing her wand, she pulled the parchment out of the book a little way: dread filled her as she saw her name written in Harry's handwriting. The only reason he would leave her a note would be because he'd already gone somewhere without her. Quickly, she opened the note…

_Hermione,  
I'm going to be gone for about twenty-four hours. Please don't be alarmed. I promise to stay hidden even though I've left my Invisibility Cloak in my bedroom. If you're curious as to where I've gone, read the ledger and the journal. They will explain everything.  
I'll see you soon.  
Harry_

Hermione folded the parchment up and pulled the books towards her, intending to stick the note back in it. The top book was a journal dated 1901-1905. She opened the cover and the pages automatically fanned until they stopped on Monday, 13 May 1901. Peering at the tightly-written script, she read, "Employed day labourers H. James, S. Ellis, P. Sherman, and R. McKnight. Good workers." There was an annotation in another hand, one that was much neater than Harry's chicken scratch, under the first entry. "H. James will stay only three days. I hope he comes back next year. AP"

"Oh Harry," she sighed. "If you've found a Time-Turner and you've done what I think you might be doing, I just hope nothing goes wrong. Three days is a long time not to slip up."

Then, she opened the ledger and began to read.

*****

Harry trudged up the hill with an air of expectancy. He was thrilled that he had already met one of his ancestors and the anticipation of meeting another spurred him upward. He crested the hill and found himself facing a large, rectangular building with a flat roof. There was a door at the short end closest to Harry. On an adjacent long wall the main shed doors that opened onto an empty, outdoor holding pen. Harry walked through the door on the end, stepping cautiously into the building. The air was heavy with the scent of old hay and the distinct odour of wet wool.

"May I help you?" a voice asked from the opposite end of the shed.

"Yes, I'm looking for Mr Herry Potter," Harry told him. "I was told he was here."

"I'm Herry Potter," the man said, coming closer. He wore knee-high boots with his trousers tucked into them and a white shirt under a tweed suit coat that had seen better days. His black hair was somewhat messy and streaked with grey. "What can I do for you?"

It took about ten seconds for Harry to find his voice. "I, er, I–I'm looking for a job. I was told at the pub in Peebles that you might be hiring," he finally managed to stutter.

Mr Potter smiled. "I put the word out a few days ago that I was looking for help. I'm glad you stopped in. Have you worked on a sheep farm before?" he asked, looking Harry up and down. "A strapping lad like yourself should have some experience, I'd wager."

Harry shook his head. "This is my first summer in the country. I was raised near London," he answered, "so I don't have any farming experience at all."

Mr Potter shrugged. "What I need you for is simple enough. What I need is muscle and it looks like you have a few of those on you. Go up to the house and leave your bundle with my wife and tell her I'm paying you fifteen shillings a day. We have nearly a thousand sheep to wash in the next two days and your help is appreciated. When you're done at the house, come back here and I'll introduce you to the other men."

Harry smiled. "Thank you for hiring me, sir. I'll be back shortly. Which way is the house?" he asked.

Mr Potter told him and Harry nearly ran down the hill, anticipation at meeting Amelia Potter so soon hastening his footsteps. He arrived at the farmhouse door puffing like a steam engine and it took several minutes of standing in the shade of the barn to catch his breath. Once he could speak, he knocked on the back door and waited for it to be opened.

Amelia Potter was a short, round woman with chestnut brown hair tied back in a severe bun that reminded Harry of Professor McGonagall. Her eyes were a cornflower blue colour and she smiled at him inquiringly.

"May I help you?" she asked, her accent thick and pleasing.

"I'm Harry James," he said immediately. "Mr Potter has hired me to help him wash the sheep. He told me to tell you he's paying me fifteen shillings a day and that I'm to leave my bundle with you. I'll be staying the night."

"Very well, Mr James. The hired hands sleep in the barn at this time of year. I'll show you where you'll be sleeping and then we both need to get to work," she said. "You can come through the kitchen." She led the way through the kitchen that smelled deliciously of baking bread and into the barn. At the far end, she paused and pointed to a straw mattress laying on the ground. "You'll sleep here for the next two nights. We're paying you only half what the other three hands are getting because you're going to eat the other half of your wages."

Harry smiled at her. "That's perfectly all right, ma'am. I appreciate a dry place to sleep," he told her sincerely as he dropped his canvass sack on the bed.

She nodded and turned back towards the kitchen. Harry followed her and was about to leave the kitchen when she called him back. "Mr James, would you please take these canteens of water with you? I need to keep an eye on the baking."

Harry took the six canteens she held and hastened back to the sheep shed.

"Excellent, Mr James," called Mr Potter. "We're just about ready." Several men walked into the shed through the open doors. "Gentlemen, I'd like you to meet Harry James. Mr James, this is Seth Ellis, Robert McKnight, Peter Sherman and my nephew, Cameron Potter. Cameron, you and Mr James will be working together herding the sheep out of the stream once they're clean. Observe Seth and Robert today because you'll be taking your turn washing the sheep tomorrow. Peter and I will be working with the dogs to herd the sheep into the water."

Harry nodded, glancing uncertainly at Cameron. "What are we supposed to do?" he asked in an undertone as the group headed toward the pasture and the flock of dirty sheep.

"It's pretty easy," Cameron said. "Seth and Robert have the hard job today. There's a specific technique to getting the dirt out of the fleece. Once a ewe is clean, they'll send her up the bank to us. We just have to make sure she gets into the pen. If she bolts, one of us will have to chase after her."

"Does that happen often?" Harry asked.

"No, because the sheep want to get to dry land quickly and back to the flock. Some of them are as bad as old ladies with all the complaining they seem to do."

Harry chuckled at the image.

By now, the men had reached a pen erected at the top of the pasture. It was filled with ewes with black faces and legs, curving horns and an abundance of grey wool. Harry supposed the fleece would be white if the sheep weren't so dirty. His eyes followed the fence line down to the water. It stopped on the near bank and then resumed on the opposite, somewhat stony, side of the burn and continued up the next hill to a large, empty pen at the top. At the moment, the water downstream of the pens was clear and he could see down to the bottom of the stream; later, he supposed, the downstream water would be rather cloudy.

"Come on, Harry, time to get to work. Uncle Herry is ready to send in the first sheep," Cameron called from the opposite side of the burn.

Harry joined him just as Mr Potter sent the first of many sheep into the water. The process was fascinating to watch. Some of the sheep were reluctant to get wet, so Mr Potter called "walk on" and his sheepdog would bark and snap at the ewe's heels until she entered the water. Then, Seth or Robert would grab the ewe by the horns and proceed to swing her back and forth, sometimes rubbing the animal vigorously to dislodge any debris stuck in the wool. Once she was clean, the men carried the ewe to shallower water and pressed the water out of the wool with their forearms. The sheep was then released and Harry and Cameron took turns herding the wet sheep up the bank and into the next pen to dry in the sun.

The last sheep of the morning ran, bleating, after her flock mates just before noon. Harry took a swig from his canteen and asked Cameron, "How many are in there?"

"I'd wager about two-fifty," Cameron said, eyeing the milling sheep. "We'll do that many this afternoon and another five hundred tomorrow, if the weather holds." He beckoned with his hand. "I don't know about you, but I'm hungry. Let's go see what Aunt Amelia has made for us."

Lunch was served at a long table in the barnyard. Seth and Robert disappeared into the barn before they ate and came back wearing dry clothes. The group dined on a hearty pork stew, homemade bread, beer or water and apple pie. The older men seemed to gravitate to each other, so Harry gladly conversed with Cameron. He learned that the other boy was seventeen and would enter his last year at school in the fall.

"When does school start for you?" Harry asked.

"September first, no matter what day of the week it is because I go to a specialized boarding school. Lessons start the next day," Cameron explained and Harry suddenly realized that his grandfather was a Hogwarts seventh year!

"Isn't it a little early for school to be getting out?" Harry asked. "I didn't leave school last year until nearly July."

Cameron looked a bit sheepish as he said, "Normally, that's when my school gets out for the summer, too. This year it was different: The last two months of school were cancelled because the… erm, the animal… animal husbandry teacher was killed when one of the herds stampeded. Several students were injured while trying to rescue him. There was talk of not offering husbandry classes next year before the train took us back to London. I hope another teacher can be found. It would be a shame not to have the classes because so many of my classmates come from rural areas." He let this news sink in for a bit and then asked, "What about you?"

"I finished school last year," Harry lied hastily. "I've taken a year off to see England and Scotland before I settle down in a job."

"Aren't you afraid you'll forget what you've learned?"

Harry shook his head. "I go back home once a month to review and plan my next adventure. I don't leave until my parents are satisfied I'm still retaining my knowledge of the subject I've revised. Sometimes I'm home for only a few days, other times, I'm home for a week, depending on how much I've forgotten," he said, smiling at his own inventiveness. The truth was, he hadn't opened a textbook since Dumbledore's funeral. Changing the subject, he asked, "So what will you do once you've left school?"

"I'll probably apply for a job with the Ministry," Cameron said vaguely. "I'm thinking of going into politics. My goal is to run for Minister some day after spending time in various departments so that I can learn what the biggest issues are."

"You're ambitious," commented Harry with a grin. "Which departments are you thinking of working in?"

Cameron suddenly clammed up, sputtering that he hadn't thought about that yet, and Harry realized that his grandfather thought Harry was a Muggle. Instead of pursuing the previous subject, he asked instead, "Why are you working for your uncle this summer?"

The other boy relaxed a bit. "My parents have gone to the Continent and gave me the option of coming here or going with them. I hadn't seen Uncle Herry and Aunt Amelia in several years and spending the summer outdoors was much more appealing than dressing up in a high, starched collar every day." By the time he finished, Cameron was smiling. "I'm going to inherit the farm someday because my aunt and uncle don't have any children."

Harry frowned. "How come they don't have children?" he asked. At Cameron's own scowl, he hastily added, "You don't have to answer that if you think I'm prying."

Cameron shook his head. "It's a sore subject, Harry. Two children were born in the farmhouse several years before I was born. The first was a girl who didn't live past infancy. The second was a boy. I'm told I met him when he was seven and I was two, but I don't remember. His name was James Robert Potter; his parents named him to honour my father who carries the same name. The story goes that Little Jimmy, as he was called, loved to play in the hay loft and one wet afternoon, about a year after I met him, he was playing up there and fell to the barn floor. He was gravely injured and died within hours of his fall. Uncle Herry and Aunt Amelia didn't have the heart to try for more children after that, so they fixed it that upon their deaths, I'll get the farm. Because of that, I wanted to learn their craft this summer so that I'll have a vocation to fall back on if I don't succeed in politics."

Harry was thoughtful for a few minutes following this recitation. Finally, he said, "I'm glad you're getting to know your aunt and uncle and how they make their living. It's good to know where you belong in the world."

It was Cameron's turn to frown. "Why do you say that like you don't know where you belong?" he asked.

"To tell the truth, I really don't know where I belong sometimes," Harry admitted. "My mother's sister hates my mother so much that she won't speak to her, mostly because of who she married. My father is a good man, but my Aunt Petunia puts him down whenever she can, or at least she did when I was younger. My father's parents died shortly before I was born, so I never knew them. Sure, my dad has told me about them, but it's not the same as interacting with them. Do you see what I'm getting at?"

Cameron nodded. "I do," he said softly. He glanced up at the men and suddenly scrambled to his feet. "Time to go back to work. I think Uncle Herry and Peter will be washing the sheep this time."

Harry grinned. "And tomorrow we get to try our hands at it," he said.

Cameron chuckled. "It's harder than it looks."


	4. Chapter 4: Family

**Chapter 4: Family**

**Author's Notes:** Harry gets to spend some quality time with his family during a dinner he will long remember. Thanks to all of my readers who have shared their thoughts with me.

1745 hours, Monday, 13 May 1901

When the last ewe ran up the bank, bleating her fury that her dignity had been besmirched, Mr Potter called to his men, "That's it for today. Good work, men. Seth, Peter and Robert, I'll see you tomorrow morning at dawn. Harry, Cameron, we have two last tasks before we can call it a night. I want you two to go up to the north pasture and bring down the rest of the sheep. Take Rex, Franny and Shep with you. Cameron, you show Harry those whistles I taught you to start the dogs working the sheep. Bring them down to the holding pen and lock them in. They'll be all right over night, I think."

"What will you be doing, sir?" Harry asked.

"The clean ewes are spending the night in the sheep shed, Harry. Some of them aren't quite dry and I don't want them to catch cold. I'll take the rest of the dogs and drive the clean ewes to the shed while you're bringing down the dirty ones," Mr Potter said.

Grateful that his great-uncle had answered his question, Harry trudged off after Cameron, deep in thought. The revelation that his employer wasn't his great-grandfather, but rather his great-uncle, made much more sense than his original guess that his great-grandfather was a Squib. Harry was pleasantly satisfied with the discovery, despite the fact that he wouldn't get to meet his great-uncle's brother, Cameron's father. He was a bit saddened at Herry and Amelia's misfortune regarding children, but somewhere, sometime he had read that childhood mortality rates were much higher early in the twentieth century than they were at the end of it. A multitude of reasons for why his ancestors chose not to try for more children raced through Harry's head and by the time he and Cameron reached the north pasture, Harry was ready to put the subject to rest.

"Harry, shepherds work their dogs using a variety of whistles. Can you whistle?" Cameron asked.

"Not very well," Harry answered, remembering the three days he'd spent in his cupboard after he'd out-whistled Dudley when they were six. "Show me anyway. Who knows what'll come out?"

Cameron commanded the dogs to sit and stay, then said, "We command the dogs using both voice commands and whistles. If you absolutely can't whistle, there are devices you can buy that produce a good whistle, but they're hard to use. Let's see how you do. There are five basic commands. 'Away' or 'away to me' tells the dog to go to the right."

Harry mumbled the commands, committing them to memory, while watching Rex, Franny and Shep. The dogs' ears wiggled and their expressions were comical as they tried to understand what Harry was saying.

Cameron continued, "When you want the dog to go left, call 'come by.' 'Walk on' means forward, 'lie down' is the stop command, and 'that'll do' recalls the dog to the shepherd. Think you can remember those?"

Harry nodded, still muttering.

"Now then, the whistle for going right is this," Cameron said, then demonstrated.

The whistle sounded easy enough, so Harry puckered up and gave it a go. Nothing but air came out. Embarrassed, he tried again. More air. He finally gave up after a couple of minutes when he became so light-headed he needed to bend over.

"Come on, Harry, Rex wants at the sheep. You can work with him to get that small group back to the larger one. I'll work with the other dogs," Cameron said, pointing. "Oh, you don't have to use a big voice. Rex will hear you if you talk normally."

Smiling nervously, Harry first made friends with Rex and then commanded him to start moving the sheep. It was slow going because Harry became mixed up with his commands a bit, but eventually, he and Rex managed to merge the small group of sheep with the larger one. Harry was thrilled with his and Rex's accomplishment, he having learned more from the dog than he thought possible.

"We did it!" Harry cried when he recalled Rex to his side.

Cameron, who was on the other side of the pasture, hailed Harry over and after congratulating him, showed him another group to bring in. Forty-five minutes and six groups later, the main flock began moving slowly towards the burn and the sheep washing station holding pen. When the last ewe's tail crossed between the gate posts, Cameron closed and locked the gate and turned to Harry.

"Good job, Harry. You're a natural, I think. Rex really likes you,"

Harry fondled the dog's ears, causing Rex to wag his tail. "I like him too. What happens now?"

"Dinner and then early bed. We're up before the sun feeding and checking the sheep."

"Sounds good," Harry commented, and followed Cameron back to the house.

"Get changed and join us for dinner. There's a pitcher of water next to each of your basins if you'd like to have a wash," Mrs Potter told Harry and Cameron as the boys walked into the kitchen. "Dinner is in fifteen minutes."

Harry moved toward the barn as Cameron headed for the stairs and began peeling off his sweaty clothes as soon as the door shut. He was exhausted; five hundred sheep were a lot of sheep to move from one place to another, especially since many of them were rather stubborn about going where Harry had wanted them to. At the basin, he poured a little water from the pitcher and splashed it over his face and back, letting the droplets sluice down his body. The water was cold and felt good on his hot skin. When he was dry, he changed clothes and went back into the kitchen.

"What can I do to help, Mrs Potter?" he asked.

She looked at him in surprise. "Oh, well, lay the table for four, please. Everything is in the bureau," she said, sounding flustered.

Harry smiled shyly at her and went to find the utensils, cups and plates. As he was finishing laying the table, Cameron and Mr Potter came in.

"Ah, Harry, you're not required to help in the kitchen," Mr Potter said.

Without looking up from his task, Harry answered, "I wanted to."

Mr Potter and Cameron exchanged a glance and took their seats. Harry returned to where his great-aunt was standing and asked, "What else needs to go on the table?"

Mrs Potter handed him a bowl of runner beans and another of mashed potatoes and followed him with a loaf of bread and a platter of roast chicken. Every dish smelled heavenly and Harry wanted to fill his plate immediately, but resisted as his family bowed their heads and his great-uncle said grace.

"Tell us about your family, Harry," Mrs Potter said, once everyone had been served.

Elaborating on what he'd told Cameron that afternoon, Harry talked about his parents and the Dursleys, leaving out the very important fact that he had spent so many years with his aunt's family due to being orphaned at such a young age and pretending his mum and dad were still alive. In turn, the family shared that this was Cameron's first visit to the farm in several years because of how long it took to travel from one place to another by horse or cart and how expensive the journey by train was… and in the end, one still needed a horse or cart to get from the train station to the farm! That caused several chuckles and Harry glanced at Cameron, wondering if he'd learned to Apparate and was keeping that fact about himself hidden.

"Were you surprised at how he had changed since the last time you saw him?" Harry asked his great-aunt.

She blushed a bit and patted Cameron's hand while saying, "Of course I was. I think I was still expecting the little boy with messy black hair, ripped trousers and muddy boots and not the polished young man you've become, dear."

Cameron turned a delicate shade of pink at his aunt's praise, but didn't say anything. Harry looked at his great-uncle. "What's it like having your nephew here working with you?" he asked.

The question seemed to catch Herry off guard and he took a moment to answer. "A blessing," he answered simply.

"Why, Uncle?" The question Harry had wanted to ask was voiced by his grandfather.

"Because I get to teach you about sheep farming, show you the things I would have taught my son." He glanced at his wife, whose face had taken on a melancholy expression. "If you know the value of something, you're not likely to throw it away."

There was silence around the table as everyone reflected on what Herry had said. Harry realized that his great-uncle was worried that Cameron would sell the farm after he was gone or could no longer run it and that it was important to him that someone should remember how Herry and Amelia had contributed to the world.

Eventually, someone cleared their throat and the conversation turned to events in the district, how the weather had affected lambing this year and then the news that Robert Scott was going to explore Antarctica. Scott was getting there in the newly-launched RSS Discovery, a beautiful wooden steam barque with three masts that was powered by both coal and the wind. After a time, the conversation turned to the day's events.

"It would be so nice if our fleece was purchased by one of the big wool mills," Mrs Potter said wistfully. "I'd love to see it become the yarn for tweed coats or suiting instead of horse blankets."

"Now, my dear, you know that once I've sold the fleece I have no way of tracking what becomes of it. I'm just happy that prices seem to be a bit higher this year than last," Mr Potter chided his wife affectionately. Then slapping his knees, he announced, "I don't know about you boys, but I'm off to bed."

Cameron quickly stood and followed his uncle, but Harry stayed in his chair. "Would you like some help with the dishes, ma'am?" he asked.

For the second time that evening, his offer of help seemed to surprise her. "That would be very welcome," she finally murmured and began clearing the table.

"I noticed you have planted an herb garden," Harry said conversationally as he picked up the plates and carried them to the sink. "What have you planted?"

"Oh, the usual. Healing and cooking herbs such as peppermint and wintergreen, rosemary, St John's Wart, lavender, parsley, dill, chives, basil, lemon balm, thyme, and yarrow. I don't have a specific plot for my herbs because it's easier to place them amongst my cabbages and carrots and beans. Planting them with my food crops helps keep the weeds down. I know some plants planted with other plants help the two grow; they seem to benefit from each other's existence," she answered.

Harry cocked his head, thinking about what he'd learned from Professor Sprout about mutual plantings. "You're absolutely right about some plants helping others to grow. I've read that just like people some plants help other plants be resistant to disease or insects and that scientists are trying to prove this."

"That's good to know, Harry. It's nice to have my own observations confirmed," Mrs Potter said as she finished washing the last plate. Harry took it from her, wiped it dry and set it back in the bureau.

"If we get finished early enough, could you show me your garden?" Harry asked hopefully. "I'm interested in horticulture and seeing what is grown in various parts of the country."

"I don't think my garden is much different from any of the other kailyairds you'll find in this district, but if you want to see it, I'll show it to you." She paused and then added, "I'll bid you good-night now, Harry. Don't stay up too late."

Harry watched her hang her apron on a hook next to the sink. "Good night, Mrs Potter. I look forward to seeing your garden tomorrow," he said.

She smiled at him and left the kitchen. Harry stood for a few seconds longer, watching his great-aunt ascend the stairs, and then lit a lantern and took it with him into the barn. As he made his way to his straw mattress, he passed two sturdy-looking horses, four cows and the six dogs he and the men had worked with that day. Only Rex, the beautiful black and white border collie, raised his head and looked directly at him. To Harry, the dog seemed to be smiling at him.

A few minutes later, Harry had finished washing his hands, neck and face and had stripped down to his shirt and pants to sleep in. It was rather warm in the barn and even though it was quiet, it was still somewhat noisy with the rustling of mice in the hay overhead and the breathing of the animals. Harry closed his eyes feeling quite contented and was nearly asleep when he felt the wet nose of a dog nuzzle his hand. He opened one eye and discovered Rex standing next to him. Smiling, Harry scooted over a bit and patted the mattress. That was all the invitation Rex needed. The big dog hopped up next to Harry and lay down with his head resting between his paws, his eyes watching Harry.

"Good night, Rex," Harry said.

The dog closed his eyes and for the first time in a long time, Harry fell asleep feeling safe and contented.


	5. Chapter 5: Sheep

**Chapter 5: Sheep**

**Author's Notes:** And now for the conclusion of this little tale. I hope you like the story enough to comment on it. Thanks for reading.

**1145 hours, 5 January 1998**

Hermione heated up the last of the potato and leek soup she'd made for dinner two nights ago and took it out to the sitting room with her. She was worried. Harry had been gone nearly a day and the longer he stayed away the easier it would be for him to say or do something that would alter events in time. She hoped with all her might that Harry would be able to keep his mouth shut, not be the noble git she knew him to be and come back to her all in one piece. It wouldn't do for him to come back injured because that would make hiding out all that much harder if he needed medical attention.

"You're worrying too much, Hermione," she chided herself. "Harry's a big boy. He knows how important it is not to tamper with or change even the smallest thing. You have to have faith that you prepared him well enough back in third year."

The voice she'd always equated with Professor Snape now stepped in. "You need to research this some more. Somehow you must bring Harry back to the present before he does something he'll regret."

"There's nothing more to research!" she protested. "I don't have a Time-Turner and I don't know how to make one. Besides, if I suddenly showed up in 1901, that would be changing time too much!"

A third voice, that of Professor McGonagall, soothed, "You're absolutely right. You learned your lesson very well in third year. Have faith that all will go well because Harry learned the same lesson."

A final voice, one that sounded like Ron's said, "Enjoy being by yourself for a while, Hermione. You're bloke-free until Harry gets back. Go ahead, it's all right to read those sonnets Harry was reading the other night. They might take your mind off things."

In the end, Hermione finished her soup, washed the dishes, and then grabbed her coat and went for a long walk.

*****

0430 hours, 14 May 1901

After a substantial, pre-dawn breakfast of eggs, bacon, toast and fried tomatoes, Harry and the other hired men followed Mr Potter and Cameron up the hill to the sheep washing station. As had been agreed upon the day before, Harry and Cameron waded into the burn and waited for the first sheep to be sent down from the holding pen, a pair of rams that had escaped washing the day before. The rams were reluctant to enter the water and even with the help of the dogs, it took all of Harry's strength to drag his ram deep enough to float and then swish him back and forth until the dirt drifted from his fleece. As the water reached his hide, the ram went limp in Harry's grasp, stopped fighting to get loose and seemed to be enjoying himself. A moment later, Harry towed the ram toward the opposite bank, took a moment or two to squeeze some of the water from his fleece and then turned him loose. The ram scrambled up the bank with a bellow, and aided by Peter and Seth, entered the drying pen.

In the meantime, Harry and Cameron had taken hold of another pair of sheep and were diligently swishing the ewes back and forth in the cold water. As much as he would have liked to ask questions about technique or the time required to get a sheep truly clean, Harry's teeth were too busy chattering to make conversation possible. He wished mightily that he had thought to cast warming charms on his person and clothes before leaving the barn this morning, but he hadn't wanted to risk performing the magic.

Noontime finally rolled around and Cameron and Harry gratefully climbed from the water.

"How you doing, Harry?" Cameron asked through chattering teeth as the group started back to the house.

"I can't feel my feet," Harry admitted. "It's been a while since I was this cold from the waist down."

"The walk back and a change of clothes should get you a bit warmer," Cameron said as if trying to convince himself the statement was true.

"I doubt it," Harry grumbled. "I have to stay in these clothes the rest of the day. I only brought the one change of clothes and I'm wearing it. Yesterday's clothes were too dirty to wear a second day."

Cameron scrutinized him for a moment, then said, "You look to be about my size. Maybe some of my clothes will fit you."

"I couldn't take your clothes," Harry protested.

"I didn't say I was giving them to you, just letting you borrow them," Cameron said, shaking his head. "Don't be stubborn, Harry. If you don't change, you'll be wet the rest of the day and you'll risk getting sick."

Sighing, Harry gave in. "Thanks. I owe you one."

The two finished the walk to the house in silence.

When they reached their destination, Cameron said, "Come up to my room. Let's see what I can find for you."

Harry followed his grandfather through the kitchen and up the stairs to the bedroom he had slept in the first night he and Hermione had been in the house. Amazingly, it looked practically unchanged except for the Muggle photographs Cameron had set out on his bedside table. Harry bent down and studied the photos: there was one of two older people and one of Cameron's entire family standing before the doors of a building that was obviously Hogwarts castle. In the family portrait, Cameron looked to be about eleven or twelve while the girl looked to be a sixth or seventh year. Both were wearing Gryffindor school robes. As he stared at the photo, the frozen girl winked and wiggled the fingers of her left hand at Harry. It was all he could do to keep from gasping aloud. The girl winked again and dropped her hand back to her side, then continued to pretend to be a Muggle image.

"Hey, Cameron, is this your family?" Harry asked.

Cameron came over, holding a pair of trousers and a clean shirt. He held them out to Harry. "These ought to fit," he said. "Oh, yeah, that's my family. It was taken at the end of my first year at boarding school. I was eleven and my sister was seventeen." He pointed to each person in the photograph. "That's my dad, James, and my mother, Imogen. Philippa, my sister, is married now to a bloke named Bruce Macmillan who spent my entire first year at school calling me 'Pipsqueak'. They live farther north near Glasgow now and I don't get to see her very often."

"She's pretty," Harry said admiringly, then felt instantly guilty for even considering looking at another girl when his Ginny was more beautiful than she.

Cameron chuckled. "You're not the first bloke to drool over my sister, Harry. And don't feel guilty for looking at her if you've a girl of your own, as long as she doesn't catch you at it. Do you?"

"I broke up with my girl nearly a year ago and I think I still pine for her occasionally," Harry said truthfully.

"Give it time, my mum always says," Cameron said sagely.

"Since you asked me, do you have an eye on a girl?" Harry asked.

Cameron's ears turned pink as he reached into the top drawer of his bureau and pulled out a small photograph of a girl in school robes standing on the same steps as Cameron's family. Since the photo was black and white, Harry couldn't tell which house she was in, but thought there might be a Ravenclaw patch on her left shoulder.

"Have you been going out long?" he asked.

Cameron shook his head. "We've exchanged a few letters since school ended, but I haven't asked to escort her to–" He broke off because Harry was sure his cousin was going to say _Hogsmeade_. Instead, he corrected himself and said hastily, "–the local village."

"Does she have a name?" Harry asked, wanting his suspicions confirmed.

"Her name's Iona. Iona Brocklehurst," Cameron mumbled.

"That's a nice name," Harry said, trying to hide his excitement at seeing a picture of his grandmother. He handed the photograph back to Cameron, who had a sort of glassy-eyed look on his face. "If you're serious about her, don't let her get away."

"Huh?" Cameron asked. "You think she's a keeper?"

"She's not a fish, Cameron!" Harry chuckled and knowing the conversation was quickly getting out of hand, he asked, "What's your dad do? You said he and your mum were going to the Continent."

"He read law after he left school and now has a practice of his own. Many of his clients have interests in France, Germany and Italy and he makes a trip there at least every other month, sometimes more. Mum wanted to do some shopping in Paris and Munich before the tourists invaded this summer, so she went with him and I came here, like I told you yesterday."

"They sound like very interesting people. My dad's in law enforcement, working for the government," Harry offered, wondering how best to describe the Aurors without actually using the words 'magic' or 'wizard.' Suddenly, he began shivering. "Excuse me. I need to go change," he said, and turned towards the door. He held up the clothes. "Thanks for these."

"See you down stairs, then," Cameron said.

Harry descended the stairs and headed for the barn. Just as he reached the connecting door between the barn and the kitchen, Mrs Potter came in from the garden. At the sight of him, she jumped a little, then smiled. "Mr James, you don't have to borrow Cameron's clothes," she said, "I laundered the ones you wore yesterday and hung them up by the fire all morning. I put them on your pillow in the barn."

It took Harry a moment to find his voice. "Thank you, ma'am," he finally managed. He held up the clothes he'd borrowed from Cameron. "Er, what should I do with these?"

"Give them here. I'll take them back up," she said. "Oh, and Mr Potter, change quickly. Lunch is nearly ready."

Harry smiled gratefully at her and headed for his mattress. Before stripping off his wet clothes, he took a moment to search for his wand and the Time-Turner. Relief flooded him when he found them undisturbed. Satisfied that his secret hadn't been found, Harry hung his wet clothes on a couple of hooks he found on the barn wall and quickly dressed. He was looking forward to the meal; washing sheep certainly worked up an appetite.

*****

The men sent the last of the clean sheep into the drying pen at about a quarter to five in the afternoon by the height of the sun in the sky. Transferring them from the holding pen to the sheep shed to finish drying took an additional twenty minutes and then Mr Potter called the men to him. He was holding four small money bags, which he handed to Seth, Robert, Peter and Harry.

"I thank you men for your help these last two days," he said. "I wouldn't have been able to get this task done without you. Seth, Robert and Peter, I'll send a message about which days I'll need you for shearing." The men nodded and departed for home as Mr Potter addressed Harry. "We finished half a day early because of your help. I appreciate you coming out. Will you spend the night with us free of charge? I sense you will want to leave in the morning to find work elsewhere."

Harry smiled. "I appreciate the offer, sir. Leaving in the morning agrees with me just fine."

"Good, then. Let's get back to the house before my wife starts hollering for us as if we were recalcitrant lads shirking our chores," Mr Potter laughed genially, and with a whistle for the dogs, he turned towards the house.

Harry walked into the barn to find the wet clothes he'd worn earlier that day freshly laundered and folded on his pillow. He smiled and went over to the basin to wash most of the grime from his body. He even took the time to brush his teeth before he went back to the kitchen to see if he could help his great-aunt. She was alone in the kitchen when he arrived.

"Mrs Potter, thank you for laundering my clothes from this morning. I sincerely appreciate the time you took to do that for me," he said with a smile.

"It didn't take me very long, Mr James. I was glad to do it," she said as she busied herself at the stove.

"We, erm, we talked about you giving me a tour of your garden. Do we have time now?" Harry asked.

Mrs Potter checked one last pot. "Yes, there's just time for a quick tour of my kailyaird before I start dishing up," she said. She took off her apron and hung it on its hook. "Come this way."

She led him out the back door and around the side of the house to the sunniest side of the yard. Like Mrs Weasley's garden, his great-aunt's was surrounded by a picket fence along which grew rambling roses–Harry could identify those by the leaves and thorns–and other climbing plants and in the back corner, he could see a skep surrounded by a cloud of bees. Since it was still early in the growing season, only the spinaches and lettuces seemed to be thriving; most of the other vegetables had just begun peeking through the soil, but Harry's practiced eye could distinguish between the parsley and carrot tops, the mints and cabbages, the violets from the calendulas, the tomatoes from the potatoes and beans. He stepped close to the fence and inhaled deeply the scents of turned earth and growing things.

"What a peaceful place," he commented without thinking.

"It's practical, Mr James. It keeps us in vegetables, provides plants to keep us healthy, and gives me something to do while Herry is out tending the sheep," she explained.

"That's what I mean," Harry said. "Everything you grow here has a purpose, but it still is pleasing to the eye and nose. Your bees provide you with honey as well as help your plants grow. I even see your compost heap just beyond the skep. To me, that means your garden debris and dead leaves are hard at work making nutrients for next year's garden. It's peaceful to me because there's so much order in this tiny corner of a chaotic world."

Mrs Potter stood looking at him for a long moment before she said with a grin, "Either you're very old for your years or you've been reading Shakespeare's sonnets, young man."

"I'm guilty of both," Harry said enigmatically.

They stayed by the fence a few minutes longer until Harry's stomach rumbled, reminding them of the need to get dinner on the table. Without asking, Harry went to the bureau and took out plates, glasses and cutlery for four and set the table while his great-aunt ladled vegetable soup into a big tureen. Harry added soup plates to each place and then carried the soup to the table. Cameron came down and helped with the pitchers of milk and water, which made his aunt smile. By the time Mr Potter came downstairs, the three of them were seated and laughing over something one of the sheep had done that day.

To Harry, sitting round the table with his family was the best feeling in the world. There was something to be said about the easy conversation, the smiles and laughter they shared, that made this meal special for him. Deep inside, he didn't want to leave, but he knew he had to. He had things he needed to do in his own time and if he didn't show back up when he was supposed to, he would change time in so drastic a way that he probably wouldn't recognize it when he did return. He would leave at midnight, he decided, and not stay the third day, since he wasn't needed around the farm. He was glad for the time with his relatives and the sense of belonging he now felt. A hand on his made him look up.

"Tired?" Mrs Potter asked, a note of concern in her voice.

Harry shook his head. "No, ma'am. I was just thinking about how nice it is to be included in your family meal."

She smiled. "It's nice to have you with us. Now you three get out of the kitchen so I can clean up," she said.

The men rose and Mr Potter beckoned Harry and Cameron to come with him. Cameron shook his head and picked up the tureen, indicating that he was staying to help his aunt. Harry followed his great-uncle through a passage under the stairwell into a small room lined with work benches. The walls were hung with all sorts of tools. A bookcase was positioned against one wall. On its shelves were hundreds of wooden objects ranging in size from tiny fish hooks to full-size duck decoys. Harry walked over to examine them closer.

"Wow! Did you carve all of these?" he asked in wonder.

Mr Potter beamed. "I did." He picked up a shepherd's crook shaped like a duck's head. "This was my latest project. I finished it about a month ago. I'll use the decoys later this year when the ducks migrate south."

"When do you have the time to do this?" Harry asked.

"Winter nights are longer here than they are in the south, so there's plenty of time to whittle while my wife reads sonnets and other books aloud, unless one of the sheep goes missing in a storm and we need to search for it," he answered. "You've probably noticed that most of Amelia's kitchen tools are wooden. I've made every one of them for her."

"Is it hard to do?" Harry asked, curiously, somewhat awed at the fact that his great-uncle was so talented with a knife.

"Not really. You just have to be careful not to take off more wood than needed. I'll show you," he said, reaching for some small knives and a couple of small wood cylinders. He handed a knife and a piece of wood to Harry. "We take the bark off first, like this…"

Over the next several hours, great-uncle Herry taught his great-nephew Harry the fundamentals of whittling and before he knew it, Harry had a miniature sheep laying in his hand. True, it was crudely shaped, but it did look like one of the woolly animals they'd been working with all day.

Impulsively, Harry asked, "May I keep this, sir?"

Mr Potter smiled. "You've done very well, Harry. Take it with you as a reminder of your time here."

Harry stood up, pocketing the sheep, and helped Mr Potter sweep up their wood shavings. The older man put them in a special box, saying that his wife would use the cuttings for starting her kitchen fires. A few minutes later, Harry said good-night to his family and went out into the barn to wait until the household was asleep.

At a quarter past one, Harry quietly gathered his things, made his bed and quietly tiptoed into the kitchen. There, he set the small purse containing his thirty shillings and a note of thanks on the table and then Apparated out of the kitchen. The walk to his get-away point seemed longer than it ought because he kept turning around and looking at the house and the sheep shed on the hill, trying to remember it all. The track turned a corner and Harry was swallowed by the surrounding hills. It was time to go. By the light of his wand, Harry set the rings and dials on the Time-Turner and gave it one full turn forward.

*****

When the Time-Turner deposited Harry on the dirt track between the hills at the Potter farm, it was no longer raining. Scowling, he lit his wand and began searching for the footprints he most assuredly had left in the mud after his departure. They were gone, completely obliterated by the rain. Suddenly feeling sick with dread, he just knew that something had gone horribly wrong and that he wasn't in 1998 and that he would be doomed to wait out the time difference in hiding for the rest of his life, thus changing the outcome of the war, because another time jump just didn't seem practical. With a muffled cry, he took off running down the track towards the house.

There was a light on in the sitting room window when Harry pelted headlong through Hermione's enchantments into the farmyard because he knew the house was there. Quickly, he cast several detection spells and was relieved to find only one person in the house. That could mean one of two things. The first was that Hermione was awake when she shouldn't be, the second was that the Death Eaters had found her, taken her away and left one of their own behind to capture him as well. Harry hoped the Death Eaters were that smart.

Pulling his wand, Harry strode up to the front door and knocked. A moment later, a cautious feminine voice called, "Name yourself."

"Harry James Potter, son of James and Lily, grandson of Cameron and Iona and grand-nephew of Herry and Amelia Potter," he said. "Who are you?"

"Hermione Jean Granger. I sleep in a Cannon's t-shirt I appropriated from Ron last summer," came the answer.

Harry grinned. He'd only discovered that titbit of knowledge when he and Hermione had needed to rescue the tent from being blown into Loch Ness on New Year's Eve. He now knew he was safe and so was Hermione.

"Let me in, Hermione. It's freezing out here," Harry requested, his teeth beginning to chatter in the cold night air.

The door was suddenly flung wide open and a hand shot out and grabbed him by a wrist, pulling him into the house. The lock clicked and the door sq uelched shut with Hermione's sealing charm and then he was engulfed in one of her bushy-haired hugs.

"Oh, Harry, I've been so worried!" she sobbed.

"Why?" he asked. "You're supposed to be sound asleep upstairs."

"Harry, let me see that Time-Turner," Hermione demanded. "There has to be something wrong with it."

Harry fished the Time-Turner from under his shirt and handed it to her. She peered at it closely, careful not to turn it fully forward or backward.

"How many forward turns did you give it?" she demanded.

"One."

"What date did you set it for?"

"Twelve-oh-two, seventh January 1998. Why?"

"Harry, you should have set it for January fourth. I've been alone for nearly two days!" Hermione exclaimed. "Do you know how much could have changed because of your mistake?"

"Yes. You wouldn't have awakened to find me missing if I'd set it correctly," he breathed, suddenly panicking. "Have we been discovered?"

Hermione relaxed a little. "Not that I can tell. We're so isolated out here I can't get wireless reception even at the top of the tallest hill," she told him. "Besides, the Death Eaters wouldn't use the wireless until we were in custody, our capture had been confirmed to You-Know-Who, and the Galleons for our capture awarded."

"That's reassuring. Still, if I had to make a mistake, this seems to be the best time and place to make it, then," Harry said hopefully.

"I don't think anything's been changed," Hermione affirmed. She gave him back the Time-Turner and then turned towards the kitchen, making a slight detour to pick up her mug. "Come into the kitchen. I'll make more tea."

Harry smiled and followed her. When they both had a steaming mug, Hermione led him back into the sitting room and curled up on one end of the settee, pulling her feet under her. Harry sat at the other end, conjured a woollen blanket like the one that had been on his bed in the barn and threw it over both their laps.

Hermione ran a hand over the material as she exclaimed, "It's so soft!" She took a sip and the said, "Now tell me all about your adventure. I want to know everything."

**The End**


End file.
